In their entire history, Bath City have never reached the FA Trophy Semi Final. That is until now. The Semi Final of the competition is played across two legs, with both competing teams playing at home and away. The first leg was played yesterday. Bath City were at home and faced North Ferriby United, from the Conference North. Shamefully, NFU are one of those sides that I would never have heard of, if it weren’t for the fact we had been drawn together.

It was always going to be a tense affair. The prize for progressing beyond the Semi Final is a trip to Wembley Stadium, for a final against either Wrexham or Torquay United, who are contesting the other Semi Final.

The game ended 2-2. A win would of course have been better, but given the fact North Ferriby were 2-0 up at one point, the turnaround left all City fans with a feeling of optimism.

Like my fellow supporters, I was left feeling optimistic at the fulltime whistle. I was also left feeling sick. Really sick. The sickness was getting worse; forcing Claire and I to go straight home, instead of staying behind at the ground, to meet the players and management, as we usually do after home matches.

Later in the evening, I became intimate with a toilet bowl and a bucket, as I expelled the contents of my stomach and what felt like all my bodily organs from my mouth. I thought I was going to die. Was this the cost of Bath City progressing to the Semi Final? If they do reach Wembley, I dread to think what will happen to me. I’ll ensure I have a personal doctor on hand. Luckily, since this morning, there has been no more spewing, but I have placed myself on a diet of water, bread sticks and Revels.

Usually a sickness virus would mean a couple of days off work, as I am still infectious. I’m on annual leave all of next week, so will remain in quarantine and away from the office. I’m supposed to be in Bristol tomorrow night. I am due to attend the Colston Hall. It may surprise you, but I am not performing. I have tickets to watch Collabro – the winners of last year’s Britain’s Got Talent – however, if this sicky feeling doesn’t disperse and I am still on a diet of dried bread and small bits of chocolate, I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere. I’m sure when Collabro learn of of my illness, they will cancel and rearrange the concert just for me.

As I have probably mentioned a thousand times on my blog this week, I have had a cold. Despite being a lot better than I was, I still have moments where the man flu is too much for me to cope with.

Last night, while lying in bed, not only did I find myself struggling to sleep, but breathing was becoming difficult! This was only a side-effect of the cold virus, although decisive action did have to be taken, in the form of a bottle of Olbas Oil. Just a few drops onto a piece of toilet roll were enough to sooth my throat and allow me to sleep.

A few hours later I woke up. The whole bedroom stunk of the stuff – it was enough to make your eyes water. Claire had been woken up by it too and was complaining of a headache. At this point, my airwaves had been well and truly cleared and I was more concerned with fumigating our bedroom! I removed the offending piece of toilet tissue, which had been used to collect the drops of oil, from the bedroom.

The room still reeked, but there wasn’t a lot to do besides go back to bed and hope we didn’t die of poison from the fumes in our sleep. We didn’t. In fact, by the time I woke up the smell had almost gone. I’ll be going to bed very soon. What I won’t be doing is using any of that oil again anytime soon.

I’ve been off work today. I have a cold. Not just any old cold, however. This cold has stolen my voice. I literally cannot speak. I stayed off work as I felt unwell. It was probably a good thing I avoided the office anyway, because with my laryngitis, everyone I would speak to on the telephone would think they were talking to a pervert, breathing heavily down the line.

I woke up this morning thinking I was dead. I am suffering from man flu and today it is at its peak. This must be that Ebola feels like. Maybe I have Ebola? As the day has progressed, my symptoms have improved, leading me to believe I probably haven’t got Ebola. It was suggested by my friend Simon that I should try Three Mint Tea, which I will definitely try – after coffee, of course.

iPad
Since my last blog, I have acquired an iPad. Since the now late Steve Jobs unleashed the overgrown iPhones upon us all a few years ago, I’ve yearned for one, on the same level as a lion yearns for zebra meat, a fish for water and Alex Ferguson for Jack Daniels. So, being brave (or stupid), I raided my piggy bank (Online Saver account) and made my way to the Apple shop, post-haste.

The Apple Shop is mad. The place is fill of children playing with all the fancy toys out on display, no doubt Googling the latest craze from the playground – Justin Bieber, One Direction and Morgan Freeman.

I looked for somebody who was in change and would be able to sell me an iPad. Mainly so I could get the hell out of the children’s after school club as fast as possible. Lots of adults were dressed in coloured t-shirts, I guessed they were the self-proclaimed “geniuses”. If you’re a real genius, you would be in a laboratory or library – not working in a shop.

I eventually found a genius who appeared delighted to see me. His excitement was so extraordinary, I thought his brains were going to leak from his ears. Despite this, he asked me to wait over by the iPad table for another genius to assist me. While I waited, I changed the wallpaper on all the demo iPads to the Bath City FC logo and left my blog, Sean’s Stories, open for the next person to use the demo iPad to discover.

I was eventually served. A genius tearing himself away from the laboratory, where he had just discovered a cure for AIDS. I was then asked what I would like to buy, what I knew about Apple and if I wanted to kiss the solid gold life-size statue of Steve Jobs in the centre of the store. Every response I gave was greeted by “amazing”. In fact, if I had been given a pound for every time I heard that word during my visit to the shop, I would have had the iPad paid for.

Somebody once told me that iPads are made in a factory in China and everyone that works in the factory wants to kill themselves due to the poor working conditions. If I worked in the Apple Store, I would kill myself. I think it would be awful.

Ill
While you were all enjoying the long, 4 day Jubilee weekend, I was ill. A throat infection. I’m not sure how I contracted it, but it was very painful. Doing what any sensible person would do, I didn’t call the doctor, instead opted to look on the internet for advice. The conclusion – I was either pregnant or had AIDS. I suspect the former. It really hurt though. My throat felt as if I had swallowed a razor blade and washed it down with lemon juice. I was kept alive on a strict diet of chicken soup, custard and many pints of TCP – my flat still stinks of the stuff now, although in a strange way I like the smell. I may use it as an air freshener from now on.

The bank holiday weekend ended and so typically did the shearing pain in my mouth. Therefore I did not take any time off work. The fact I cured myself also meant I did not have to visit the doctors or buy a pregnancy test. I suppose that is a good thing.

Sean's Stories

On this website, you’ll find me blogging (almost) daily about everyday life, living in Bath, working with computers, and the occasional bit of football stuff thrown in.

If you're expecting The Man Booker Prize, you've come to the wrong place. If you want to read a collection of sometimes eccentric, often disturbing and rarely amusing ramblings, gorge your eyes on this.

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Sean's Stories 2004-2018
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